


The Nurturer's Tale

by Christina_Potter_09



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 08x06, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, BAMF Sansa Stark, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Dany survived Jon's attempt at her life, Dark, Dark Danny, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Jonsa, Dark Sansa Stark, F/M, Feminist Themes, Hurt/Comfort, Impregnation, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Mad Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Minor Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Multi, Pregnancy, References to The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood, Religious Fanaticism, Ritual Sex, The Handmaid's Tale inspired, a few years later, and on, as in they are in an awful marriage, devastated jon snow, is love and pain and everything, jonsa, nurturers are handmaids in this, sansa's first person pov, tyranny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26036008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina_Potter_09/pseuds/Christina_Potter_09
Summary: I placed my hands on my swollen belly.Closing my eyes, I began considering how we reached that point.A point of no return.Years ago, the Mad Queen had rained fire upon the people of King's Landing. Jon Snow had attempted to kill her. She survived the attack and kept her promise.She freed the World, from Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Qarth, from the Summer Isles tot he Jade Sea, by burning it.She kept Jon Snow alive, so he would watch the new World, so he would beg her to spare the North and Sansa Stark."Let it be Fear." She had kept that promise too.Then, there was the dragonpox outbreak, along the famine.The Dragonbane, the people whispered of the era, from the illness, mostly the children suffered, death reached in their cribs. Then the women, years passed and less and less were blessed with the fruit of the womb.So the people prayed... and the Lord of Light listened.Years later, Sansa Stark is summoned to King's Landing, as Nurturer, blessed by the Lord to carry the children of Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen.Dragon and wolfs blood to keep the Kingdoms from falling apart.Blessed Be the Fruit.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 42
Kudos: 129





	1. Dragonblood

**Author's Note:**

> I started reading the book and I couldn't help it, the au came on its own, I believe it will be small, brief chapters from sansa's first person pov. many disturbing themes will be touched here so please consider yourself warned, this is a dark fic, touching things like madness, impregnation, ritual sex, rape etc 
> 
> from season 8 on, dany survived jon's attempt, the rest continues from canon but jon remained with dany instead of being sent to exile. 
> 
> This IS a jonsa fic but it will be dark and twisted and the characters are imperfect, keep that in mind, please. 
> 
> Special thanks to Abi117 for listening to my rumblings about it.  
> Enjoy....

The Nurturer’s Tale

_"The control of women and babies has been a part of every repressive regime in history. This has been happening all along." -Margaret Atwood_

__

Dragonblood

_It does no good to want the impossible._

_I wanted an independent North._

_I wanted my family to thrive._

_I wanted to be free._

_I wanted to be in Winterfell._

The veil is heavy over my head even within the carriage taking me to the Red Keep. Taking me to them.

_I wanted never to step foot in King’s Landing again._

The carriage is coming to a halt, the sun too harsh even through the curtains of it. It’s too hot, I can feel the slickness of sweat on my neck.

_I wanted to remain in the Northern cold._

The door opens abruptly, a hand is offered to me. I take it, it pulls me out; not entirely gently but not abusingly so.

I have been through worse.

The veil allows me only to see the marble stairs leading to the Keep. I hadn’t seen the place devastated by Her dragon and I don’t care how it looks now that it has been rebuilt by Him.

It had been my cage, when I was a little bird. It remained so now that I am to be a Nurturer.

I can imagine Lions have been replaced with Dragons.

_I wanted them all dead._

I have no curiocity over the rebuilt house of faith, the Keep of Light has replaced the Sept of Baelor, maybe the stairs of it are the same. Where my father had been executed; now all the executions are taking place there. It’s where Her only dragon lives, taken care of and worshipped as fire incarnate by the Clergy of Light. Red Priests and Priestesses preaching over our banes, our Queen.

Maybe I will be executed there too.

After I have fulfilled my purpose.

After I have given birth to their child.

I start climbing the stairs, Unsullied guards are around me, certainly proud they brought me to Them. Certainly worried that even now, I will fall from the stairs to my death.

I know every perfect spot of the Red Keep -renovation or not- for jumping to my death before their Queen can even order her dragon to take flight.

Before their King can call out my name.

Does he remember my name?

Will he be allowed to speak it in public or only while he will be trying to impregnate me with the next Targaryen.

I reach the last step, my neck keeps my head lowered, their feet come into view, a black dragon wing embodied at the hem of Her red dress. Black boots before a long red cloak.

Red and Black, of course, they are both Targaryens.

I made sure the world would know there were more than one.

_“Because we’re family!”_

_“I swear.”_

_“What if there is someone else? Someone better?”_

I should have kept my mouth shut. For breaking my oath, now I will have to open my thighs, allow him in, continue their legacy of death and destruction.

Cersei Lannister had been right, Gods have no mercy, that’s why they’re Gods.

They would have shown mercy if His attempt to kill Her had been successful. If it had been me instead of Bran who burnt that day outside the Walls of Winterfell. She hated me after all, but no, the failed attempt had only flued her anger, and her madness.

I wanted him back in the North, safe and happy, mine.

_“I will protect you, I promise.”_

I sink to my knees, once again, like Torrhen and Eddard Stark before me, I sink to my knees like I had done in Winterfell, right after She had burnt Bran for calling Her mad, while the North had watched in shocked silence, while Jon had screamed in despair, kneeling himself like he had done before.

_Jon had been his name, Aegon, because of me._

_What would my name be now?_

‘Dragonblood, welcome home.’ Her voice coaxed a gasp from my lips. I have no tears to cry. I’ve cried over the past years plenty. That stupid girl had been right.

The Monsters win.

‘Blood of my blood,’ she added and I finally raised my head, her violent violet eyes were as vibrant as I remembered, maybe a glint too bright but I cannot judge, if I wished my head to remain on my shoulders.

I won’t comment on the scars across her breastplate either, the dragonpox scarred her, but maybe she considered that beauty, she’s the daughter of the Dragon after all.

‘Welcome,’ his voice a hollow echo of what it had been drew my eyes upon him. He’s a ghost of himself, frightened to call my real name, still resistant to call me with the name given by Her.

They’re both pale, exhausted, hopeless, desperate, a mess, like Her reign, like the Seven Kingdoms.

And I am to give them a child to continue the madness.

The Gods will flip a coin.

But I will catch it, set it the way I like it.

For I know who I am.

I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell and I want my circumstances to bring me everything I want.


	2. The Message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at the end of august I went back to work and ever since I've been super busy, I had to sacrifice the updates of this for my "Lone Wolf and Last Dragon" story on my little spare time.  
> Enjoy...

Our encounter at the entrance of the Keep was rather brief, I bowed again -my veil concealing my face once again, my gaze from his hollowed, watchful eyes. Soon, I was escorted to the Maidensvault retitled to Treasure Vault, where the treasure would be made and kept. 

The Unsullied guards followed me, it was evident they would for the remaintment of my time there. It was clear I would not be left alone. Daenerys had learnt from Cersei, she was afraid of the schemes I could weave on my own, of the ways I could escape. She forgot how I escaped through the Purple Wedding, in broad daylight. I wanted to chuckle, to laugh hysterically. I bit my lip, concealed by my veil as I kept my head low, counting the tiles, knowing every inch of the bloody place. 

They were soon pivoting me to my new chambers. I followed, memorising the route already, knowing on which ward I was being taken. 

I raised my head only when the soldiers stood before a certain door, my chambers, my new cage. One followed me, entering the room with me, closing the door behind him and standing before it, shielding it from any kind of urge of mine to open it and leave the rooms without being spoken to. I wanted to glare, to scream, no privacy, no dignity, of course, I was just a vessel for the next dragon to be born. I held my mask of indifference, so long plastered across my features I wasn’t sure I remembered how to smile or frown, or cry. 

‘Lady Stark,’ the name, the feminine voice, rushed down my spine like hot oil, jerking me into action as I turned around quickly, a Red Priestess was there. I hadn’t noticed her, taken by the sound of the door closing behind me and the presence of the Unsullied lingering. Daenerys knew what she was doing, her precious army was cockless after all, if there was one thing her soldier couldn’t do to me was rape me. 

I struggled to focus on the woman before me, she looked like Melissandre in everything and nothing. I tried to asset the situation, of course I would have a new kind of septa to brainwash me on ethics and faith. Of course, I had to subject to the royals like poor fertile women did for noble ones, a diminishing position, a position appointed for slaves all but in name. 

For all the pain I had suffered from him, I had wished Ramsay’s torture had made me infertile, but no, my womb played a bigger role than my hand or name from the beginning. 

‘ _...He will keep these bits, until you give him a couple of sons.’_

_‘What if I have only girls?’_

_‘Gods be good you will have boys AND girls…’_

_‘Love no one but your children…’_

_‘You are the Key to the North.’_

Ghosts had spoken those words, in different places of the world, while I was still Sansa Stark. 

‘Dragonblood, my lady.’ I bowed, out of habit, out of necessity, out of the need to survive this torture as well, to endure. I bowed and kept my eyes on the tiles of the floor.

‘You’re right, Dragonblood, everyone is who they are and what they are for a reason.’ The woman agreed with a smile I could only picture as I remained silent and looking down, trying to understand her body language with the corner of my eye as she approached. ‘My name is Kinvara, I am the Hand of Queen Daenerys and I am a Nurturer myself.’ the woman said, her hand reaching for my hand, she was Daenerys’ spy, at least she was forward with the truth. I didn’t show my surprise at her words, because there wasn’t any, she couldn’t be a Priestess, a Hand and Nurturer, she meant something different. 

‘I am taking care of the Queen’s only remaining child.’ she added, meaning the dragon. I fought so hard the urge to roll my eyes at the words, obviously my mask could fail me. ‘But through my mentoring and watching after you, Her Majesty will soon have more children than her dear Drogon.’ Those words hurt, struck a raw nerve, igniting that fear that had leaked in my stomach, hot and desperate, just like the day the royal summon had reached Winterfell, calling me down to King’s Landing for one purpose and only. 

I wished there were still spies around the wretched city, the sodding keep had been purged from Varys’ birds, from the spider himself, from scheming Lannisters and mischievous Tyrrells, I hated that I had killed Littlefinger, regretting my choice for the first time ever since the traitor’s blood had stained the stone floor of Winterfell’s Great Hall. I needed allies, I needed someone. 

‘Blessed by the Fruit,’ I finally murmured the only thing I believed would be accepted by the Priestess before me, who smiled and urged my chin up with a gentle hand. Only then, I took in the entirety of my chambers. My eyes filled with horror and my gasp was audible and clear as day as I looked across the room. 

On the wall above my bed, Ghost’s head was adorning the wall over the headboard. The Direwolf had disappeared a little while after news had reached Winterfell of Jon getting captured after the attempt at her life. I had hoped with all my heart that the direwolf had somehow felt the end of his human and had run; I had wept for the stray direwolf, wishing with all my heart that the loyal wolf hadn’t descended South to find Jon himself. 

_The Monsters Win_

The Priestess' sick smile remained as she followed my gaze with her own eyes, landing upon the severed and preserved head. 

‘A Personal gift from Her Grace, to remind you of the North... Until yesterday, it had adorned the King’s chambers but our Queen thought it would be suiting this chamber better.’ The woman before me was speaking but the words had died on my throat, unable to say something, my mask broken as I knew my terror and pain were evident all over my face. 

She was mad, like her father, like the entirety of that fucking dynasty, like Jon himself, for allowing all this to unfold, for not trying to kill her again and again until he succeded since he had the chance to marry and bed her, to stand by her side that very day at the stairs of the Keep. 

This was worse than Joffrey, and there was no Ollena Tyrell to take her down. This was worse than Littlefinger and there was no Arya to yield the dagger. This was worse than Ramsay and there was no Jon Snow to smash his fists into her face and give her for the final kill to me. 

Whatever happened in that keep mirrored the destroyed Kingdoms, the bent North, the burnt Dorne and the rift between reality and salvation was wider than ever. 

‘You must rest, the Lord’s Ceremony is in two days’ time. On the Full Moon, you will have a new purpose in life, Dragonblood,’ the woman’s words echoed in my head but I couldn’t focus on her, my eyes still stuck on Ghost, his teeth bare as he had been embalmed with the mouth open in a threatening posture, or a scream, I couldn’t accept the truth of his fate to make out the final details about it. ‘No matter how odd this might seem to you now, you will soon know this is right and normal.’ Kinvara added and I fought the trembling on my jaw, I failed to control it as the tears fell down my cheeks without any way for me to stop them. 

Kinvara left my presence, taking the guard with her and giving me privacy at last, I sunk to my knees without noticing the pain on them as I fell, the scarlet gown pooling around me as if I was bleeding out. My eyes never leaving Ghost’s head. 

Daenerys had granted me privacy after all, to admire her punishment on Jon, one of many, I was sure. Now extending it to me, this was a message, in case I had funny ideas. This was a message about my own House. Of course, she had burnt Bran, Arya had been lost during the sacking of King’s Landing, I was the last one, bound to their house. 

_‘I’m not a Stark…’_

_‘You are to me,’_

The hysterical laughter erupted along a sob from my lips, ripping their way out painfully. 

My House was dying with me, although I was there to carry and give birth to a child that would have half of my blood. 

_‘I am Stark, I will always be a Stark.’_

_‘House Stark is dead.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know....  
> 


	3. Bend the Knee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is draining but I like it, remember its tags, thank you for reading

_‘I’m not a Stark,’_

_‘You are to me,’_

_‘What if there is someone else? Someone better?’_

_‘I’ll protect you, I promise.’_

_‘Sansa…’ Bran’s voice had snapped me out of my thoughts as I stood behind the desk, my gaze climbed to my brother on his chair. ‘It is time.’ he had only announced and I had nodded my head, following him out of our father’s chambers, I pushed his chair to the courtyard where every surviving Northern House waited, our bannermen held their heads low._

_Unsullied and Dothraki armies were outside the walls of Winterfell, Ironborn loyal to Yara Greyjoy and by extension to the Dragon Queen had joined them, along the Second Sons her lover had brought from Essos, Stormlanders held White Harbor. The Northern armies had been erected, loyal, seemingly ready, clearly exhausted, certainly outnumbered, it would be a massacre. But there would be none, the decisions had been made during the Northern council._

_Without Jon, we must have looked like idiots, a crippled son, a defiled sister; commanding armies to their death. The Dragon’s screech chilled us to our bones._

_‘What do Dragons eat, anyway?’_

_Daenerys Targaryen had come for me, her animosity was with me. At least, it would be over soon, I would be free of my burdens. Bran could take over, Arya had been lost in the sacking of King’s Landing and I was next, could become the new Warden of the North, and I would go down for once with my pride intact. Unlike Torrhen Stark, Eddard Stark, unlike Jon Snow, I hadn’t bent before and I wouldn’t now, I preferred my uncle and grandfather’s end._

_As the gates of our home opened, my heart sunk at the thought of this being the last time I’m passing its threshold, if allowed by the monster before us, my remains would be brought back by others, to be buried in the Crypts of Winterfell, soon I would be joining my family._

_The armies of the North had kept the path of the entrance open for us to move through, the horizon before us marked by a line of tens of thousands of enemies, curving before us as the last dragon stood next to the last Targaryens._

_My hands started trembling around the pomels of Bran’s chair as I pushed through the frosted ground. I could see him, Jon was next to her, clad in Targaryen armor, her husband, her almost assasin, a ghost of himself._

_Dorne had been devastated first, Jon’s birthplace, the kingdom the Targaryens hadn’t been able to bend for all their damned rule, the Dornish had resisted, and they had burnt for their actions. Ravens had arrived, informing us the dragonpox had broke out shortly afterwards, both in the remains of King’s Landing and Sunspear. Whispers of the foreign devils carrying the plaguing disease spread, but no one could stop it or them._

_Bran and I reached the two Targaryens, all four of us the final members of our Houses, standing on the ruins of Seven Kingdoms._

_I looked at Daenerys Targaryen in the eyes, she was smirking, welcoming us to our home, her domain. The council had sent a delegation the previous night, already informing them of our decision, this was custom, and to satisfy her bloodlust in hopes of Winterfell’s and the North’s survival._

_I had cried myself to sleep after the decision. The Northerners had chosen to bend, Bran had remained impassive about it all, muted as I raged about a last stand. Deep down however I hadn’t been surprised. The Northerners spoke of pride and honor, but they had kept silent when I was brutalised by Ramsay, they had turned their backs on me when I wanted to retake Winterfell. They betrayed my house time and time again in the past, only Jon had forgiven them, united them against the Night, only to betray them himself by bending to the Dragon Queen, and they reminded me of that throughout the council._

_‘Sansa Stark,’ my name in Daenerys’ mouth poured out like poison, turning into smoke. Her dragon growled aggressively, I stood my ground, glancing at Jon whose eyes were pinned on mine, all the sorrow, guilt and remorse, etched upon his gaze, cutting me open in ways her aggressive tone could never have._

_‘Bran Stark,’ Daenerys acknowledged and I could see the fear in her eyes over my all seeing brother, or whatever had been left of him. Her tone had betrayed nothing but I had seen that look over her phase when Bran had informed her of her first child’s demise. ‘Bend the knee,’ she cut to the chase, of course she would. I glanced at Bran as he bowed his head dutifully, the closest he could do to bending, face expressionless. ‘I said bend the knee, my Lord.’ Daenerys insisted, my eyes flew to her manic expression as she demanded the impossible of my baby brother._

_‘Daenerys…’ Jon’s voice was half a warning and half a plea. I hated him, he should have twisted that knife in her side, he should have stopped her again and again._

_‘Winterfell, the North is yours, your Grace.’ I gritted through my teeth, making a step front, her eyes didn’t move from Bran._

_‘Bend.The.Knee.’ the dragoness commanded again, Bran turned his face towards me, the ghost of a smile upon his lips, the first sign of emotion in what seemed like ages._

_‘It will be alright, sister, she's mad but at the very end, it will be alright.’ The words had done little to comfort me but seemed to be making a great deal at scaring the monster before us. I saw her frowning at the words. To my horror, Bran did as commanded, pulling his crippled body off his chair by the hands, falling heavily on the snow, legs angling awkwardly, painfully if he had been able to feel them, head bowed once again, palms flat on the earth. Tears stung my eyes, both Jon and I making a step towards him instinctively, stopping on our tracks as the armies behind the Dragon erupted in triumph while eerie silence engulfed my back from the Northerners behind me. Daenerys smiled in joy but the feeling never reached her eyes, something akin to satisfaction only entered her violet gaze as she took it upon me. Gesturing for me to move forward, I did, for the first and last time obeying her, maybe if not alright, it would be over soon._

_‘Sansa Stark, you stand accused of treason against the Crown and House Targaryen.’ I had given Littlefinger the chance to explain himself and deny the accusations. Daenerys didn’t make me the favour, her words were a statement, and a truthful one at that for I had indeed done my best to take her down and I would have done it all over again. I held my head high as her dragon straightened up, I wished to look it straight in the eye but before I did, I glanced at Jon whose eyes mirrored all the horror he held in his heart, we both knew, if either of us reacted, she would burn the North, and we had bled for it too much to put it to waste now, our lives were irrelevant by now, we had lost._

_‘Dracarys,’ the word had my own eyes closing in reflex at the light of the dragonfire, the last thing I allowed to keep in my head was Jon, who fought for me, who let me down, who I loved. I expected the agony, I had been burnt before, with scalding blades, courtesy of my second husband. I had seen the dragons breathing fire, I was ready._

_The hot air hit my side, along the sudden stench of burnt flesh, wood and furs._

_I didn’t hear the armies’ uproar, of mad joy and sorrowful rage, I didn’t hear Jon screaming out Bran’s name, my name, his own pain and agony, his begging. I didn’t realise I clawed at my own face nor that I actually bent my knees and fell on the cold ground as the snow melted rapidly beneath me. All I could see was fire, burning my eyes at its intensity and the carcass of my brother inside it, a deformed mass of what was left of the final trueborn son of Eddard Stark._

_I screamed and screamed, unable to do anything else as the fire died down and the dragon roared over me._

_‘And now that you bent the knee, my Lady;’ I didn’t look at her vicious eyes, unable to take mine from my punishment in the form of Bran’s still burning body. I only heard her voice, cold and satisfied. ‘And took your lesson on betraying me, I wish to give you a second chance, as Wardeness of the North, vassal to House Targaryen and the Iron Throne.’_

_Of course, death was a mercy and she was the Dragon’s daughter, there was no mercy and no logic in her actions, not since the beginning, not ever. She had showed no remorse on killing her own brother through torture, what had I expected for mine?_

She had thought of it all, I come to realise now, my gaze still stuck on Ghost’s severed head upon the wall. My hands cold, my eyes stinging like the day the smoke hurt them from Bran’s burning remains. I had lost track of time with my trip down to memory lane, triggered by Ghost’s sight. The room had turned dark, just like the sky outside the window. 

People said the dragon pox started from her armies, Jorah Mormount had been seemingly cured, the cases in the North were the first surging, everywhere she went the illness followed. Men died from her dragon and women from the dragonpox, if they survived, they turned barren, all the raping and war crimes led to no children, bastard or legitimate. She burnt everything, from Winterfell to Dorne, from Casterly Rock to the Jade Sea. Her reign was worse than the Dance of Dragons, darker than Winter itself.

We stood no chance once she survived Jon’s attempt for her life. 

Once her conquest was over, Daenerys had no idea how to deal with the crawling Kingdoms she had won with fire and blood. She was too afraid of Jon to lead for her, tying him to her so she could keep punishing him for what he had done, or rather what he tried to do, watching his every move, extending the punishment to me by keeping us apart, a united front no more.

She didn’t show him the mercy of exile or death, just like with me, she restored us to our true titles and names, only to keep us enslaved through them behind her dragon.

She was mad, burning people at the House of Light, where her dragon resided and the executions took place, she burnt them all, like her father. Only now, there was no Kingslayer to stop her, the last one died with Cersei Lannister in the foundation of the Red Keep and her almost Queenslayer that served as her husband and Consort, seemed broken and twisted in her winged shadow. 

She was fed with tales of destiny and fulfillment from the Red Clergy, Kinvara showed up with the Second Sons, the ravens had informed me and soon she was becoming the Hand of the Queen. The Priestesses and Priests of the Lord of Light brainwashed the people, persuading them all this was a purge of the unfaithful, there were no Seven, hence Cersei’s destruction of the Sept of Baelor and all her sins, there were no Old Gods, hence Daenerys’ order of fire upon the Godswood of Winterfell. 

People starved and crawled, broken, destroyed and burnt, until they believed, it was the Clergy announcing it was a matter of rebirth, through the ashes for the Kingdoms, the Nurturers were introduced after that. 

The poor women were the easiest to handle, whoever untouched from the dragonpox were fertile, brought under the Crown’s command. Others had traded their wombs for a plate of grain for their existing families. Others -most of them- were forced, tied down, raped and bred -by fanatics of the New Lord who wished to see mankind reborn- again and again until either childbirth or the eventual catching of dragonpox claimed them. Few escaped the raping and breeding, they usually put an end to their misery by their own hands. 

That was for the lowborn, slavery changed form, suddenly it wasn’t about the cunt, it was about the womb and that made everything worse for the woman involved, extending to highborn women too. 

Held at the Maidensvault -which had been renamed to Treasurevault- away from contacting the pox, until the Clergy decided upon their marriage to continue the line of the Houses most loyal to Daenerys. Married, ritually raped and impregnated in the House of Light, once with child, brought back to the Treasurevault for their pregnancies and labours, their children breastfed and then given to their fathers. The highborn ladies had accepted their fates easier than others. Some contacted the virus on purpose and that led to their execution, preferring the scars and the lack of use until burning; from the horrors of repeated childbirths, others submitted, accepting their faiths. Lords of fertile women killed each other over the noble womb that wouldn’t be allowed to be at peace once the seeder had died, instead she would be resold to the next faithful subject of House Targaryen.

If fertile, there was no escape either if you slept on straw or feather beds. 

I had heard rumors of Daenerys being present in all noble births, honoring the ladies with her blessings although she never held a babe in her arms, her own dragonpox still contagious. 

I was certain she would be there for my own labour, she certainly would be during the conceiving rituals, as custom had it for barren highborns who took Nurturers in their Houses to breed as a last resort for the family’s line. 

I was the last resort, of royal blood, tying the North with the Crown forever through my womb. The last sentence of my punishment was for me to give birth and away my own child, _mine and Jon’s child_ to her to engulf in her dragonwings. 

My eyes filled with tears, finally my gaze tore from Ghost’s head, my throat burnt, I clutched at it as the realisation washed over me, draining me from the strength to remain on my feet. I collapsed on the floor, unable to hold back the sobs anymore, I allowed the sorrow to overtake me as my whimpers racked my body. 

Through my breakdown, I never heard the door opening and closing, nor the light footsteps approaching me. I only gasped and tried to yank free at the pair of hands that grasped at my shoulder as if I was burnt, in more than one way, I was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I questioning the plot of this story? with every single word typed down  
> am I gonna stop writing it? Nope  
> thank you for reading, the flashback was a needed filler, the rest of the thoughts of Sansa's had to be shown so the universe can be established more clearly  
> Bran bending for Dany was hard to write, so was the rest of the chapter...  
> by the way, I cannot accept that Sam who was studying at the citadel just healed Jorah, in this story, things didn't happen like that because they help me with the spread of dragonpox

**Author's Note:**

> we'll know more of what happened to many characters as the story goes, I'm sure you have questions.  
> comments are super welcome, thank you for reading


End file.
